happy families are all alike
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Ron has his happily ever after with Pansy. But all is not necessarily as it seems. Warning: non-con


**Author's notes:** Thank you so much to aigooism and munchkinofdoom for the beta! Thank you to magic_at_mungos for the Brit-pick!

Ron has always wanted his happily ever after.

Ingredients: Add one loving wife, two (maybe three) children, their first flat (nothing like the Burrow) and a stable job. Stir twice and serve warm.

He always thought that it would be Hermione next to him in the morning. He would reach over to brush her curly hair away from her face lovingly - but _no_ -

- the hairs on the pillow next to him are straight and black. The woman next to him blinks sleepily and rolls over. "Brush your teeth, Ron," she murmurs into his hair and then kisses him on the mouth anyway.

It's _perfect_ and sometimes even Ron doesn't believe that he ended up with Pansy Parkinson.

Theirs is an unconventional relationship; everybody tells him that it won't work out, but when Ron looks into Pansy's eyes (love, love, _love_, he repeats to himself), he knows it'll last forever. His mum opposes the relationship, but she hasn't liked any of his girlfriends since Hermione. ("Why didn't you two stay together? You were perfect. Best friends since Hogwarts!")

Ron doesn't have the heart to tell her that their friendship is like all things of wonder from his childhood, transient and mostly forgotten. They're both still friends with Harry, but their own friendship has long since drifted away into the smoke of a long distant past. Ron doesn't want to tell his mum about the way _everything_ changed after Hogwarts and that a relationship cemented by fighting dark creatures had little chance of surviving the monotony of everyday life together. Hermione always did hog the blankets.

But he has Pansy now. She's _different_. There's something special about their relationship; it's as though they just fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle.

When she smiles, it's brighter than the sparkle of the ring on her finger and Ron knows that they _belong_ together.

He's an Auror now, and although Ron doesn't mind if Pansy works, there's a part of him that's glad that she stays at home. Hermione always worked – sometimes coming home after midnight and she would never tell him why. ("I work at the Department of Mysteries, Ron. I _can't_ tell you.")

But Pansy – she's different. When Ron comes home at night, she's always at the door with a cup of coffee in one hand and there's always the smell of dinner bubbling away happily on the stove. Pansy understands him. She understands how much he wants stability. She wants children as well – ("Not now, of course. In a few years") – and Ron just wraps his arms around her and wonders how he managed to be so lucky.

Of course, like normal couples, they do fight. Pansy hates the way he sings in the shower. ("Loud and off-key," she complains.) Ron hates the way she manages to burn toast. When he was back at Hogwarts, the fire alarm wards blared for _hours_ because Pansy tried to charm up some sort of fancy French soup. But that's what they have a house elf for now. Hermione never allowed him have a house elf; she was determined to do everything herself.

They have a perfect life.

It's been years since the war, and everything afterwards has been absolutely _perfect_.

The war has still left scars though. Pansy wakes up sometimes in the middle of the night. It's not like when Ron wakes from a nightmare. He's usually shaking and sweating, and there's nothing more he wants to do than to wrap his arms around Pansy and hold her forever. Pansy _plagues_ his nightmares with her arrogant smirk and a gleam of defiance in her eyes. She taunts him and calls him a _coward_ and _insane_. Ron clings to the real Pansy next to him after those nightmares and she kisses him until he falls asleep in her arms.

But Pansy's nightmares are different.

Ron wakes up to see Pansy staring out the window. It almost seems as though she isn't there. Ron looks at her and a part of him thinks that if he reaches over, he could put a hand through her. Her face is blank. "What's wrong?"

Pansy's face twitches and for a moment, Ron thinks that he's stuck in one of his own nightmares and Pansy's mocking him from where she's manacled to the walls. But then Pansy smiles, the tremulous smile that he loves so much. "Nothing," she says. "Nothing at all."

Sometimes, Ron wonders if he's just dreaming. Dreaming like the princesses in those Muggle tales Hermione told him about. Muggles always wished they had magic to make their lives better. Sometimes Ron wonders if magic just complicates things. It's not like Hermione's fairy tales. (Click your heels three times and go home.) But then he shakes his head. He deserves happiness just like everybody else. His job's not perfect; not all aspects of his life are perfect. In fact, his days feel like a prelude to his nights together with Pansy. His entire week is a prologue to the weekend where he can wake up next to her and watch her wake up.

"Do you ever wonder how we got to this point?" Pansy asks him dreamily one afternoon.

The sun's shining brightly through the window and it's just a normal day, but Ron suddenly feels a chill skip down his spine. "Oh, the usual," Ron says lightly. "Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Boy and girl move in together." (Once upon a time, Sleeping Beauty fell asleep... but _no_, this isn't a fairy tale and there are no happy endings.)

Pansy grins. "Not quite that simple. As I recall, we were at a Ministry function."

Ron remembers. It's as clear in his mind as though it happened yesterday. "You were working for the Prophet..."

"... and you were an Auror," Pansy finishes. "But the rest of the fairy tale's true."

It is and Ron's glad. But somehow, his hands are shaking and the room seems to be wobbling around him. There's a tapestry on the wall – one that Pansy bought for their first year anniversary – and as Ron focuses on it, it seems to fade away until there's nothing left but a blank wall.

"I'm asleep," Ron tells himself. "This is a nightmare."

It's how his nightmares always start.

His heart's pounding as he looks over at Pansy, but she isn't there.

"You bastard," Pansy spits out. Ron stares and stares. She's on the floor, looking up at him, fire in her eyes as she sneers at him.

Ron blinks.

And blinks again.

The world rights itself.

Pansy's in front of him with a smile on her face and his cup of coffee in her hands. "Here," she says and hands it over. "I love you, Ron."

"I love you too," Ron answers automatically. He wants to reach out to touch her face, to feel the softness of her skin against his hand, but then the scene fades away around him and Pansy's sobbing on the floor, her robes torn. There's a smudge of blood on her face.

"You're crazy," she chokes out.

Ron steps back. "This isn't real," he manages to get out.

Pansy stares at him. "Of course this is real, Weasley," she snaps. "You're _crazy_."

No.

_No._

He shakes his head. He loves Pansy. The person on the floor in front of him is just a nightmare, a figment of his imagination. This isn't real. Reality is the life he has together with Pansy, his love for her and the weekends they spend in bed together, giggling like teenagers. Reality is the coffee Pansy has waiting for him every afternoon when he gets back from work. Reality is the arch of Pansy's back as she squirms under his touch.

Ron screws his eyes shut. "You're _not real_."

"Are you alright?"

Ron's eyes fly open and he stares at Pansy standing in front of him, a slightly worried smile on her face. There's no blood on her face, no haunted look in her eyes. There's just his Pansy, the woman he loves.

"You just blanked out for a second there," Pansy says.

Ron's tongue feels too big for his mouth. It takes him a second to remember how to move it. "Sorry," he says. "I was just thinking of something else."

Pansy grins. "Oh?" she asks suggestively.

"Not that," Ron says, laughing. He reaches over and grabs her hand, wanting to feel her; her hand's warm and real. "Although, now that you mention it..."

Pansy winks and pushes him down onto the couch. She straddles him and leans down. Her mouth's warm over his, and she tastes like the cake she baked earlier. "Too bad we don't have any of that batter left," she murmurs into his ear. "I could have spread it over you and licked it off."

That's what Ron loves about Pansy. She's cheeky and bold, with none of Hermione's reservations. With Hermione, they always had sex on the bed. With Pansy, the entire house is their playground. Ron reaches up and quickly unbuttons her robes, feeling her full breasts underneath his hands. "Maybe tomorrow," he says as he circles his tongue around one of her nipples.

Pansy gasps and wriggles down slightly until she's pulling aside his robes. He can feel how wet she is as she licks the top of his cock.

"Tease."

"You love it," Pansy says with a grin.

Ron throws his head back, lost in the rhythmic sensation of Pansy's head bobbing up and down on his cock. It feels new each time, even though they've been together so long. His breath hitches as she swirls her tongue around the tip. Opening his eyes slightly, Ron marvels the sight of Pansy's mouth enclosed around his cock, one hand wrapped around him and the other hand in between her own legs, playing with herself.

It's a sight Ron knows he'll never get tired of seeing.

Afterwards, Pansy curls up, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. It's their favourite position, one that she always says makes her feel safe. Ron loves the way her long black hair floods across his chest and the way he can feel her breathe onto his skin. Sometimes, he's scared to breathe, to blink, for fear that all of this will disappear.

Blink.

Blink.

Ron opens his eyes and, for a second, he thinks he sees Pansy on the floor, sobbing. Her hair's matted around her face and she's clutching her robes around her. Her lips are raw and swollen. She looks... violated. Ron has never seen her like this before.

He opens his mouth to ask her what's wrong, but then he blinks again and the world rights itself. Pansy's nestled up in his arms, a satisfied expression on her face. "You can do me later," she tells him.

Ron takes a deep breath. It's a nightmare - nothing more, he tells himself. "Don't I always?"

"You do," Pansy agrees. She yawns. "Maybe a nap's in order for me."

A nap sounds good to Ron. It's only mid-afternoon but the nightmares are back and Ron would give anything to banish them from his mind. He doesn't know why he sees Pansy broken on the floor but he knows that it isn't _real_. "Me too," he says.

Pansy shifts and gives him a sleepy look of surprise. "But you never sleep in the afternoon."

"I will today," Ron says as he tightens his arm around her shoulder.

He can let himself be drawn into the world of his nightmares, or he can fight them. (They're not _real_, and yes, the wizard can send you all back to Kansas. Yes, even the dog. Even Toto. Hermione always loved that scene whenever they watched it together, and now it's indelibly inked in Ron's mind.) Ron's a fighter. He's always been a fighter.

Life's a choice. His mum and dad have always told him that. He can choose to be in Gryffindor. He can choose to be Harry Potter's friend. He can choose to be an Auror. He can choose to be a good person.

"I love you, Pansy," Ron murmurs.

She smiles sleepily up at him. Ron reaches over and strokes her hair. He's always loved the feeling of her hair between his fingers, silky and smooth. Ron's breath hitches for a second as his fingers brush over the base of her neck. (There's cold, slightly rusted metal underneath his fingers.) But then the sensation passes and he can feel nothing but the softness of her skin.

Life's a choice and Ron chooses _this_ life.

-fin


End file.
